Gauntlet and Stockings
by WaddleBuff
Summary: The Institute sends out Champions in pairs. Masked, covert, lethal. They take care of problems, skirmishes. An unlikely pair of an explorer and a shinobi is formed, and a bond soon blossoms between them. How will these two grow in times of chaos?
1. Bilgewater Blitz I

Even in the dingy twin bed hotel room, the thick air was permeated with salt.

It was dark. The boards of the floor creaked like the hull of a dilapidated ship. In regards to the town, it wouldn't be a surprise if it _was_ the hull of a dilapidated ship. Dusk had slowly eased its dark tentacles through the sky, swirling an inky blue. It would have been beautiful if it weren't for the orange tint of destruction that tinted its feet.

Bilgewater was at war.

The recent death of Gangplank was an unprecedented event. Champions scuffling out of the Institute of War wasn't rare, if not common. Summoners intervened the best they could, but their recent controversial involvement in Kalamanda had all of Valoran questioning their omnipotence, fearing their power. Civil unrest was a possibility the Institute couldn't afford; favor from the people, after all, was the only reason why the League existed.

So, like parents trusting pre-pubescent children, they trusted that Champions could take care of themselves, leaving them to their own devices.

But they never expected that their trust would be misplaced. They didn't expect the wild card called Twisted Fate.

The moment Gangplank's ship erupted into a spectacular pillar of flames, the news sped through arcane avenues and fiber optic cables into the Institute's hands.

It didn't take long before the news spread into other hands across Valoran. As soon as the fighting ensued, the entire continent was suddenly in the know.

News outlets from the more developed cities reported on the action, keeping a safe distance away with hovering probe drones. Spies from the major city states slinked into crowds and alleys, seeking any potential leverage for their respective powers. As for the Institute, the Summoners stayed put, twiddling their thumbs, the suspicious eyes of the people watching their every move.

What the public or even the highest-ranking intelligence agencies didn't know, was that the Institute of War still had their interests involved. True to their word, Summoners were nowhere to be found, regardless of the destruction and warfare engulfing Bilgewater. But in that dingy, creaky room, two agents of the Institute sat. Waiting.

Akali peeked through a blind of the shuttered windows, allowing a sliver of orange onto the peeling, wallpapered wall.

A loud, annoyed groan sounded behind her, followed by the violent squeak of rusty bed springs as a body fell upon them unceremoniously.

"Gods, I don't want to be here…"

Akali turned away from her surveyance of the outside world, turning towards the lazing man on the bed.

"Quit your whining. If I didn't know better I'd think _you_ were the teenager," she said, stoic green eyes the only expressive feature on her masked face.

"Ah, shut up, Stockings. You're not any better. It's not like you want to be here any more than I do. I bet you have better ways to spend your time. Like. Training, and sparring, and meditating, and uh…whatever you Kinkou do." the figure said, exasperated.

"We do that which must be done."

"And there you go again, using one of your Ionian proverbs to retort."

Akali herself was getting exasperated from the man's whiny complaining.

"You willingly signed yourself to become a Champion, didn't you? Didn't you understand all the responsibilities that entails?"

"Yeah, yeah. I just didn't expect to be put into _guard_ duty." the figure waved her off. He sat up, his voice still a little muffled through the bandana around his face. He finally looked up at Akali, blue eyes buried in the furrow of his brow, blond hair tucked beneath the goggles on his head. "Guard duty with _you_ again, no less."

Akali broke their gaze, turning towards the window again.

"Not that I mind, of course," he quickly said. This was their third assignment together. From their first mission a sort of casual correspondence had grown between them, something Akali was unfamiliar with.

The man stood and joined Akali at the window, putting an arm against the wall as his own eyes scanned the horizon. The battle was getting closer.

The man looked over at Akali, his eyes obviously bored. He looked over her teenage features, furtively allowing his gaze to slip over the smoothness of her arms, daring to whisk over whatever skin was exposed from the confined of her black outfit. The leggings that earned her his nickname were also black.

He grinned before pulling down his mask and reached over to pull down hers with a wink.

"No need for these in here, Stockings. I've kinda gotten used to your ugly mug anyway."

Akali apprehensively jolted before relaxing, looking back at him with a soft glare before fixing her attention outside again.

"Has anyone ever told you to grow up, Ezreal?"

He chuckled, a lock of his blond knocked from its place.

"Has anyone told you to stop growing up so fast?"

It had been a few months since he had last seen her. Interestingly enough, it was also under very similar circumstances: an insurgent uprising in the snows of Freljord. The Institute had sent them there with the same objective to protect the runic node they had positioned there. Runic nodes had been installed across the continent, secretly embedded inside storefronts, inns, "abandoned" shacks. They were the Institute's veins. Miniature nexuses that generated subtle mana fields.

Regardless of whatever the Institute assigned them to protect, it was still strange to Ezreal. Whatever had motivated them to pair up a Piltoverian explorer and an Ionian shinobi was beyond him. Regardless, it was his duty (and obligation) to go, so he did.

And again, they had been sent with masks. The public, as usual, needed to be kept in the dark.

Akali gave him a roll of her eyes.

"Seriously. How old are you, Stockings? 14? 15?"

"Almost 16."

"There we go. This…" Ezreal said, indicating with a sweep of hand, "…this life, it shouldn't be for you. Not yet anyway. You're always so…stoic. Loosen up a little."

Akali didn't want to encourage him, but she grinned.

"You just haven't seen me out of work," she said.

Ezreal chuckled.

In a moment's notice, that grin was wiped off of her lips. The mumblings of rifles and groans of explosives was close. That flowering red of the sky was a mere block away. It wouldn't be long until the fight was under the hotel room's window, the combatants knocking on the door for loot and shelter.

Akali flinched when Ezreal reached over to replace her mask. She looked over at him and his eyes were surprisingly stern. Even so, she could still see a hint of a grin in the corners of his eyes.

"Burden of a Champion, eh, Stockings?"

She smiled through her mask.

"Burden of a Champion."

* * *

 _This occurs about a year or so before Mutual Benefits._


	2. Bilgewater Blitz II

Ezreal let out a breath.

The air was unbearably thick with the salt of the sea. It wasn't as if the explorer didn't like the ocean, it was just Bilgewater's air in particular that possessed a distinct flavor of chum. In the shadow of the inn's large chimney, he heard the battle inch closer and closer. If he strained his ears, he could even hear curses.

" _How's it looking up there, Ezreal?_ " a staticy voice said, patching through the hextech communicator on his wrist.

"Coast is clear for now, Stockings. Just stay put."

" _Got it._ "

He yawned. Did this shit really have to happen so late? He shook his head, letting out a sigh, absentmindedly watching the black roiling waves of the ocean, a broad wooden boardwalk the only thing separating the inn and the water. His eyes found themselves in the sky as a news outlet's probe droid got shot down from the sky with a cannonball. Shouldn't have hovered too close.

Ezreal was never really into politics, but this fight was somewhat interesting. The beef between Gangplank and Sarah Fortune was longstanding within the League. Their battles on the Fields of Justice were ferocious. It was always exciting to see such a young woman wage war against the undisputed pirate kingpin of the world in that arena.

But of course, their tensions were too strained. Like some sort of stressed branch of a tree, it all had to break in a magnificent crack thanks to one particular pawn on the chessboard…

"Godsdammit, Fate," Ezreal muttered. The gambler always had a way of just fucking everything up.

" _What was that?_ "

He forgot about the communicator.

"Nothing, Stockings. Just talking to myself."

He let the minutes tick by, fighting the urge to just take a nap.

The popping of musketfire was closer than ever now. Ezreal suddenly peeked around the chimney again as an explosion rocked an adjacent street. His eyes suddenly idened at the speeding black death of a cannonball hurling towards his face.

 _KA-THOOM!_

He lunged forward, eardrums pulsating at the explosive contact of shrapnel and splintering wood. His entire being echoed the sentiment as the explosion nearly knocked him three stories to the ground.

An incessant ring replaced the ominous rumble of incoming battle in Ezreal's ears. Then, his heartbeat. Then, his breath. He crouched there on the roof, panting, sucking in air through the cloth of his bandana. Then,

"… _-real! Ezreal!_ "

Soon the ringing faded into the background, and reality firmed itself around him as he stood up before remembering that he was on a roof. He looked behind him. At least a quarter of the roof and the third story of the inn was gone, replaced by a smoldering hole, flames giggling and framing its edges. He could see the bedroom he and Akali had stayed in a mere hour earlier. Smoke began to drift from the fresh orifice, slowly beginning to obscure his view.

" _Ezreal! Are you okay?!_ "

"I-I'm fine, Stockings. I'm fine," Ezreal said, reassuring himself more than anything. He looked over himself at least three times to make sure he was still in one piece.

"Hey! There's someone on the roof!" he suddenly heard before musketballs and bullets began to whisk past his face. Ezreal made a frantic dive as the anticipated roofjumpers began to make their assault, seeking another building to entrench as Miss Fortune's forces pushed them further back. He twisted something on his gauntlet, his eyes flashing a quick runic blue before the gem on the back of his hand shone in a brilliant azure.

"Alright, Stockings. Time to wake up," he said into his wrist.

" _Already a step ahead of you."_

The moment he heard the _thunks_ of grappling hooks on the inn's shingles, Ezreal leapt straight into the air, taking aim with his gauntlet. The surprised eyes of marauders were the targets of his four arcane bolts, each fired in succession within the span of a few seconds. Each of the men fell dead before Ezreal's feet landed upon the roof again.

There were five roofjumpers left. He saw them pointing at him with fingers and the mouths of several muskets on an adjacent roof. A particular roofjumper gripped a scimitar with one hand and a rifle in the other, his eyes fierce. Smoke from their muskets puffed towards the sky after they all popped in a chain, each bullet aimed at Ezreal's chest.

He dove to the left, letting the shots lick his heels as he rolled. He got up into a crouch before immediately pointing his gauntlet towards the roof across him. A burst of yellow shone from the gauntlet, materializing into a glittering strand of gold. It shot out through the darkness, latching into the wood of the roof before pulling Ezreal through the air, propelling him across. The roofjumpers quickly got over their shock as they lunged towards him with fierce battle cries, reloading their rifles.

Ezreal didn't give them a chance.

Two arcane bolts, two bodies rolled. The remaining men discarded their rifles, deigning to slash at Ezreal's masked face with jagged daggers. He sidestepped one before elbowing the back of his assailant's neck. Another dagger lunged towards his gut. He grabbed it with his gauntlet, wrenching it from the pirate. He threw it over the pirate's shoulder, lodging the blade into his friend.

He let out a yell, throwing a punch. Sidestep. Another punch. Sidestep. The pirate found himself directly next to Ezreal. Taking advantage of the close proximity he shot out both his hands for Ezreal's neck.

Then, a yellow flash later, and those hands suddenly weren't connected to his arms. The pirate watched in horror as they dropped, rolling off the shingles to the street below, screaming at the steaming stumps of his empty wrists. Ezreal gave him a kick in the ass, resulting in an echoing yell as the pirate landed in a wooden crate below.

 _Crack!_

In a split-second, Ezreal tilted his body back, barely dodging a rifle blast. He looked towards the source, finding a grinning large man on the corner of the rooftop. It was the scimitar roofjumper. He was built like a tank, as evidenced by the weathered muscles that glinted with sweat. He had tattoos all over his skin. A particular tattoo depicted connected tentacle leading from his crotch all around his abdomen, trailing across his skin until it curved below his bottom lip. His hair was frizzy and unkept. His trousers sagged in weight, baggy, the only thing that the pirate wore aside from the empty leather ammunition belts that intersected across his chest.

Ezreal grinned. He looked pretty formidable. Definitely at least a few steps above his friends.

Still, he was dead meat.

"A tough guy, are ya? I reckoned that redhead bitch would call in some of 'er bounty hunter friends."

Ezreal chuckled as the pirate threw aside his rifle, drawing another scimitar from his back. He twirled with them playfully, grinning. The building below them shook as a cannonblast tore through its walls. The two men didn't break their gaze.

"I'm no bounty hunter. And I don't know if you can call me her 'friend'," Ezreal said.

They had started to slowly approach each other now, keeping a safe distance. His gauntlet glowed yellow again, the small arcane blade in his hand glittering into two curved shortswords, materializing in his grip.

The pirate spit. His face glowed red from the fires around them, his dilated pupils reflecting the blue of the moon.

"So how good of a fuck is she?"

"I wouldn't know," Ezreal said, honestly.

It was the pirate's turn to chuckle. His golden teeth glinted devilishly as the two stopped their circling. Ezreal could swear he could smell his opponent's breath from where he stood.

"Well, that's too bad. And you'll never get a chance to know either!"

With that, the pirate lunged towards him, pecs of his bare chest heaving with every heavy step. Ezreal waited defensively, letting his assailant clash the scimitars against his arcane blades. He grinned, letting the sparks rain between them. The pirate was strong, for sure, his weight pushing Ezreal back slightly as he held.

Then, tightening the grip on his swords, Ezreal grunted and pushed the pirate back. It was his turn to be on the offensive, swinging both his shortswords towards the pirate's gut. Surprisingly, the large man was able to dodge, nimble on his feet. Thrown off by his swing, Ezreal could only dodge the pirate's next lunge by rolling to the ground. He got up to his feet again just in time to block the scimitars from digging into his throat.

More sparks flew. Ezreal kicked the pirate in his abdomen, throwing a shortsword directly at his prone neck. The pirate deflected it, the yellow blade dissipating into dust. Another shortsword replaced it in Ezreal's right hand. With one extended above his head, Ezreal lunged towards the pirate again. Once he was deflected, he turned around, blocking the pirate's next move, grunting with effort to sidle his body and attempt to lodge a shortword into the pirate's abdomen. He missed again, making him tsk.

The pirate was confident in his movements. Ezreal's sharp ears could hear his footwork confidently retain his balance with every swing of his scimitars, like some sort of duelist. It didn't take long to realize that he was outmatched.

Technique and strength are a deadly combination, one that posed trouble for Ezreal as the blows and thrusts of the pirate forced him back further and further. Through the yellow sparks of their duel, he could feel the edge of the roof come closer and closer. Finally, his heel made contact with thin air. He gulped, not daring to look behind him.

The pirate bore all of his weight down on Ezreal, his golden teeth shining in the light of Ezreal's arcane blades.

"Looks like this is goodbye, tough guy. Mebbe _I_ can be the judge of how good she is, eh?"

With that, the pirate let up a bit, allowing Ezreal to regain his balance before stabbing with both his scimitars, sacrificing his defense. Ezreal had no choice but to take one of the blades, its curved steel piercing through into his shoulder. He let out a scream of pain, but with one blade taken care of, he took advantage of the pirate's reckless form. One diagonal slash, and blood spew from the pirate's exposed chest.

He too let out a yell, one more of surprise as he fell from the roof, blood blossoming. Ezreal watched the pirate helplessly grasp towards nothing before kissing the cobblestone ground with a sickening crunch. Ezreal let out a sigh as he caught his breath. The golden blades from his gauntlet dissipated into dust.

Then, he felt blood pouring from the wound in his shoulder before the shock wore off and pain began to pulsate through his entire body. His face paled at the sight of the blade in his flesh and the thought of what he had to do next.

Ezreal panted, breathing methodically, in and out, before he finally gripped the scimitar. The pain sharpened before he finally pulled it out, blood spurting into the moonlight. He wheezed, letting out painful yells. Immediately he raised his gauntlet in front of the wound, clamping down on it. Sweat dribbled down his countenance as golden sparks began to swirl and mend. It wouldn't heal the wound but the arcane properties would cauterize and seal it until he could properly get it healed back at the Institute.

A few seconds later, and the pain subsided. Slightly.

Ezreal rotated his shoulder before wincing as a sharp throb resounded through him. Yeah, there wasn't going to be any vigorous activity anytime soon.

As if on cue, he heard a feminine yell before realizing its origin: the first floor of the inn across the street.

He was so caught up with his own responsibility of dispatching any threats from the rooftops, he had completely forgotten about Akali and her post on the first floor.

Ezreal's gauntlet shot out the glittering gold rope again, lodging itself into the wood of the building as he relayed himself down to the ground. The chaos of battle was fading, the wave of fighting already passed like some sort of violent pulse of a heart. He could hear the yells and musketfire on the next street over. Yells of roofjumpers absent, of course.

He quickly strode over to the entrance to the first floor of the inn, hearing glass shattering, tables splintering, and most worrisome, muskets popping. Before he could even reach the handle of the door, the violent crash of a window shattered beside him as a body was hurled to his feet.

Suddenly, the noises inside ended, and a silence pervaded the atmosphere.

Almost scared of what to expect, he reached over and turned the handle of the inn's door. It creaked open, revealing a grisly scene of corpses. Blood splattered against the walls, wood splintered everywhere. Discarded limbs, a head or two, some groaning last words.

But no Akali.

Wary, he didn't enter the inn, allowing only the mingled light of destruction and the moon to flood the inside room. He looked around cautiously before raising his wrist to his lips.

"Hey, Stockings. You okay?"

Then, all of a sudden, Akali just…appeared in front of him, sitting cross-legged on a bar stool, unmasked with a grin. She raised her own wrist to her lips.

"Who exactly do you think I am?"

Relieved and disappointed in the little faith he put into his friend, Ezreal grinned back at her. She didn't look like she broke a sweat. He finally entered the inn, lowering the bandana covering his face.

"A little girl with a stick up her ass."

Akali shrugged.

"At least I get things done," she said, scrunching her nose towards his direction. "You look like shit."

Ezreal playfully punched her arm as he sat himself down on the intact stool next to her, crumpling on the bar with his head resting in his arms.

"I don't wanna talk about it."


	3. Bilgewater Blitz III

Akali set down a bourbon next to Ezreal's face, pouring one for herself before she made her way around the bar.

She nudged the glass towards Ezreal's empty hand after she sat down. She wore a small pout on her lips as she continuously pushed it against him until finally he gave in and sat up, taking it in his hand.

He frowned upon his inspection.

"It's not on the rocks."

"Shut up, Ezreal," Akali said before raising her glass, offering a toast. "To successful guard duty?"

"Aren't you too young to drink?" She glared at him before he finally grinned and offered his glass between them. "To successful guard duty."

Her glare slowly softened, and she gave a resigned sigh, grinning back.

A clink of glass, and they both took a swig, finishing their respective glasses in long draughts and satisfied sighs.

The pair sat there, content, surveying the corpses littering the room. Booming of more cannons and fiery explosions resounded in the background.

"Easy pickings, huh?" Ezreal said, breaking the silence. He rotated his shoulder a little before wincing.

Akali noticed.

"Speak for yourself. It's fascinating how a so-called prodigal explorer is hurt by a few pirates."

"Hey. He was a big one, okay? Like. Really big. And good with scimitars too. For…some reason."

"Right…do you want me to look at that shoulder?"

Ezreal scoffed.

"As if I'd let a kid 'treat' my shoulder."

"You know full well I'm a nurse. And I'm almost done with my physician assistant program."

Ezreal looked at her as if she was joking, but her cocked eyebrow and set lips were proof enough that she was telling the truth.

"Fine, you can look at it when we get back to the Institute. If it's for the sake of research, I don't mind allowing a young student to examine this specimen of a body."

Akali could only roll her eyes again.

It was going to be a while until the Institute would extract them. They had to be absolutely sure that the coast was clear. Leaving their precious runic node behind after a battle only to have it being discovered by a couple stragglers would be disastrous.

Ezreal got up from the stool, carefully stepping over bodies to make his way out the door.

"Where are you going?" Akali asked, cautiously following him.

"I'd rather watch the scuffle from the roof than wait down here in a room full of stinking bodies."

He had a point.

Ezreal shot up the grapple from his gauntlet, tugging it a few times to make sure it was firmly latched into the roof's shingles. He looked at Akali, the burning orange of the flaming building behind him framing him in a contradictory tranquil frame.

"You coming?"

She looked around her and didn't see a reason why she shouldn't. The node was secure, and even if there were stragglers it'd be an easy jump to take care of intruders.

"Sure," she said after grabbing her twin kamas, latching them to her sides.

She approached Ezreal, looking up at the glittering rope of arcane light.

"Is that thing really stable?"

"I've seen you literally jump from treetop to treetop, landing onto bare rock after at least twenty flips in the air, and you're asking if my _magic glitter rope_ is stable?"

Akali shrugged with a grin.

"Good point."

She sidled up in front of him, letting his right arm wrap itself around her. Her hands clasped delicately behind his neck, careful to avoid the wound on his right shoulder.

"All set?"

She nodded, prompting Ezreal to begin their incline. The sensation of weightlessness gripped her as they left the ground, instinctively causing her grip around his neck to tighten. Akali nestled her face into his chest, the smell of his musky sweat pervading her nose. It was a nice, mature smell, and she looked up at him, wondering what his skin smelled like.

He was looking upwards as they slowly ascended, unminding of Akali's close proximity, her chest swelling into his. He grin when he felt her eyes on his neck.

"Don't get too excited there, Stockings. You know I have a girlfriend."

"As if _you'd_ get me excited."

His chuckle echoed through Akali's chest, making her shiver in warmth. She suddenly felt self-conscious about her own sweaty scent.

"Then who does? Shen, I'm guessing?"

Akali stayed silent for a moment, recalling just last week when Shen had helped her with her…"urges". She shrugged, as best as she possibly could while clinging to Ezreal's chest in midair.

"Better candidate than you, that's for sure."

Another chuckle, and after a few seconds, they arrived at the roof. Akali weightlessly leaped off his body onto the shingles of the inn, prompting the explorer to call her a showoff as he grunted with effort to join her.

The small fires that plagued the inn's gaping hole had since taken care of themselves, smoke and small embers its only children. Ezreal climbed up the incline of the roof, joining Akali at its apex, sitting down with a sigh. In the distance, the battle raged onwards. Piers were set alight with fire, the tranquil black of ocean churning with ships. Stray cannonballs tore through streets, plumes of fire consuming entire blocks. Chaos.

"Is it balanced?" Ezreal asked.

"What?"

"Valoran," Ezreal said, pointing his chin towards the battleground below. "Is it still in balance. There's so much shit going on tonight. Just wanted to ask since you're probably the be-all, end-all of this balance stuff."

"I've been inducted into the Kinkou for only a year, Ezreal. The matter of balance still evades me sometimes. But…I can still sense the general equilibrium of things. And so far, everything's still alright. The Institute has ensured that."

Ezreal looked impressed.

"Is that so."

"Well, most of the time. Kalamanda is one example of when that equilibrium shattered. For a good few months too. The Institute is still human. And humans are always the prime threat to the symmetry of the universe."

"Human, huh."

The subject of Summoners wasn't really broached upon too often. They were always just there, in the background. It never really occurred to Ezreal that they were people too. The thought made his head spin, and his head had done enough rotations that night.

He looked at Akali as her petit countenance turned and looked back.

He felt something sweep over him then, a warmth that swept through his tired muscle.

He reached over and ruffled her hair.

Ezreal didn't say anything, but the approving look in his eyes spoke volumes. He had a way of touching the more casual side of her psyche, something more jovial. Something she never really got the opportunity to express without him around. Before she could stop herself, Akali returned the gesture, reaching over, softly petting his messy, golden bangs.

The silly exchange lasted for a few moments before the pair withdrew their hands.

With that, they looked off into the distance, the fires of battle consuming the rest of the small fishing town. It shouldn't have been a pretty sight. People were dying, innocent people were probably caught in the crossfire. But in that moment, the pallet of reds and oranges felt warm.

Then, as they both began to relax even further, Akali felt her eyes begin to droop. It was past midnight. She was considering resting her head on Ezreal's shoulder until-

 _KA-THOOM!_

An immense explosion rocked the entire inn, right down to its very foundations. A splintering crumble followed, the entire backside of the inn that had the hole collapsing into charred dust.

The runic node was under attack.

Akali and Ezreal regained their balance together, looking into each other's eyes, wide with surprise.

Before they pulled on their masks, they shared a word together, a word that encapsulated both of their sentiments.

"Shit."


	4. Bilgewater Blitz IV

Rusty hinges of the wooden door finally surrendered its responsibility with successive, metal pops. Once the door hit the ground, Ezreal and Akali ran into the first floor of the inn, finding the wall opposite the bar completely absent. Smoke and fresh dust lingered in the air as their eyes scanned the wasted bar.

Another gaping hole stared back at them from the wooden floor, arcane sparks rimming its lips.

It was clear what it meant: the runic node was gone.

Akali immediately broke into a sprint, pulling Ezreal alongside her. She brandished her kamas behind her, ebony hair following suit.

"You better keep up," she muttered.

Ezreal didn't know what she had seen or what she had sensed, but his feet trusted her.

They ran, Akali several feet ahead of him as they burst through the hole of the inn's wall. The crisp air of the ocean night washed over their faces as they sprinted. Cobblestone of the ground was replaced with the wooden lateral planks of a boardwalk. Hollow thuds echoed beneath Ezreal's boots, Akali's strides silent. Wordlessly they ran for a minute before Akali banked into a turn to her left.

Ezreal slowed his sprint, bemused at her new direction. It would only take a few strides before the boardwalk ended and the inky swirl of the bay began. The water would be deep, deep enough to accommodate a galleon. And yet, Akali's feet didn't stop. They were determined as the edge of the boardwalk inched closer and closer to its end.

Then,

"Fire a flare," she said, stoic yet poignant.

Ezreal didn't have time to ask her anything. What direction? How far? How big?

He just saw her leap from the wooden boardwalk into the darkness of the night, and without hesitation, he raised his gauntlet, primed it, and fired an arcane flare. The ball of light flew through the air in a high arc before shattering with a delicate crackle at the apex of its ascent, flooding the surrounding area in a golden glow. A wharfrat scampered into the water, its sharklike-tail flittering behind it in fear.

Then, Ezreal saw it.

A black sailboat, sleek and curved in its shape, forebodingly skimmed through the water of the bay. Its sails were ribbed, painted black like the rest of the ship. It looked like a junk, a traditional schooner from the isles of Ionia, but it looked modified, sharper in its edges, molded with precision for fast, long distance travel, as opposed to the blasé shipping junks that dominated its home ports.

Ezreal gaped at the sight as it suddenly dominated his field of vision. It wasn't a very large ship at all, but it was big enough to cast some shadows onto the boardwalk. He wondered how it could have stayed hidden from view at all as he ran alongside it, barely keeping up with its stern. He put forth a morsel of energy into his run before aiming his gauntlet at the oily black wood of the junk, shooting out his grapple. He simultaneously fired something else, a tracking flare that cast light on the ship no matter where it moved, anchored by some invisible arcane force.

He managed to catch Akali scaling the side of the ship with her kamas before the burning night turned into a blur as he propelled towards the junk's stern. His boots let out a reverberating thud upon contact. Fortunately, surprise wasn't part of the plan. Ezreal could already hear the clashing of steel, grunts of effort, pummeling of flesh. Hurriedly he climbed to the stern, eager to help Akali in her offensive.

As soon as he jumped onto the deck, he knew this fight was something out of his league. He scanned the ship's main deck, but it was difficult to track his partner's movements as she dashed and struck from one side of the junk to the other; Akali seemingly melted into the darkness and materialized with ease, dispatching foes in deft swings with her blades. It was a mesmerizing sight to behold, watching the girl effortlessly trade blows and clash steel, contorting her thin body before seemingly teleporting again and again.

If Akali's form of combat wasn't enthralling enough, the ship's inhabitants proved to be worthy rivals. All of them donned black, shadowy and large. They shifted through the air like apparitions, surrounding Akali, trying to outsmart her deceptions with their own. It was a battle between mirages, a fight between phantasms of ink.

Before Ezreal could assess what he could contribute to the battle, one of the men suddenly materialized in front of him, the sinister glint of a katana winking at him. In the blink of an eye the sharp steel stabbed towards his neck, Ezreal's reflexes allowing him to dodge it by a mere inch. He gulped, feeling the sword's edge kiss the lump of his throat. Then, before his opponent could retract for a second attack, a longsword materialized in a golden glow from Ezreal's gauntlet. He gripped it with both hands, quick enough to block another lunge from the katana.

He could see the eyes of the man behind his mask, squinting in concentration, as he slowly paced around Ezreal. Ezreal blinked. Another man materialized, katana already poised above his head.

"So, we're playing that way, huh?"

Ezreal grinned, raising his longsword. Then, with a diagonal slash towards the closest assailant, he lunged. His blade clashed with a defensive block. Arcane sparks flew. He held the position as if he could cut through the sword itself.

A flash of steel shot towards his neck. Ezreal reached towards the attacker with his left hand, blocking the katana with the rune-encrusted plating of his gauntlet. He could see the widened, surprised gaze on the swordsman's face before he squeezed. In an instant, the sword turned white-hot, the handle bursting into flames. Its wielder gave out a yelp, staggering backwards, instantly dropping the steaming sword to the floor. Then, in his moment of alarm, Ezreal shot a bolt through his head.

With only one more assailant to worry about, Ezreal focused his strength on his right arm, gritting his teeth at the strength that the man before him poured into his sword. Without even looking, Ezreal could already sense reinforcements, wispy figures running up the stern's stairs, trapping him from both sides.

Summoning all his strength, Ezreal pressed the flat edge of his longsword, pushing back towards his opponent with both arms. He gave a yell of effort, pushing the man towards the right side of the ship. He pulled back, giving him leverage before he pushed forward again, successfully throwing the man off-balance. There. One diagonal swing of his longsword, and blood sprayed from the man's abdomen before his fumbling footfalls took him over the railing into the churning black below.

With both hands on the hilt, Ezreal stabbed it backwards, hearing the satisfying _shnk_ of flesh as his head tilted to allow a katana to miss. He let go of the longsword, hearing it dissipate into golden dust as the swordsman behind him fell to his knees.

At least five men were running up the staircase to his left, at least ten charging with katanas behind him.

He wouldn't have time to try anything else. His next move was risky, but it would have to do.

Five successive shots of arcane bolts. Head, chest, leg, head, arm. Three dead, two writhing on the staircase in pain. Ezreal instinctively ducked, the metallic whisper of a katana whisking over his head. He swore; a few strands of his blond were lost in the process.

He blindly shot a bolt behind from his armpit. The pained scream of a man, and Ezreal swiveled round to deliver a kick. The swordsman fell back into his companions, causing their charge to falter. There was definitely more than ten, but they were all grouped together in a chokepoint, their swords gleaming. A few glints flew towards his face, but Ezreal dodged, hearing the successive _thunks_ of the shuriken burying themselves in a crate behind him.

Then, he raised his gauntlet, pulling back on an invisible string with his right arm. He felt his feet elevated by a magical force as he poured all the runic elements of his blood to flow into his left hand. A translucent, crystalline blue of a bow materialized in front of him, casting his masked face in an azure glow. Swirls of a cosmic force began accumulated at the apex of his bow. Ezreal's brow furrowed in concentration as a grin also curled on his lips. Some of the men in front of him stopped in their tracks, but it was too late.

Ezreal's right hand released. In an instant, that invisible energy materialized into a pulse of golden sparks, a barrage of arcane bullets. In seconds, every man fell dead, their armor shredded, bones crunching to dust as a wall of glittering bolts rushed towards them.

Ezreal landed on his feet. The men before him managed to stay upright as gauntlet's bullets shredded through their bodies, bursting through the crates and paneling of the other side of the junk, shooting into the night. Then, panting from the effort of releasing that much energy, he grinned again as he snapped his fingers. With that, the bodies fell to the wood of the deck simultaneously.

It seemed that the display of power caught the attention of the rest of the crew, and in moments, Ezreal could see more reinforcements rushing towards his corner. He shook his head, heaving for air. He couldn't shoot. He couldn't summon any weapons. His gauntlet needed at least a minute to cool down from the trueshot barrage. He could already see the blue wisps of mystical steam swirling through the gauntlet's side vents.

"Shit," Ezreal said he as he limply dodged another shuriken aimed at his head before gasping in pain as one of them lodged itself into his left shoulder. " _Fuck_ ," he gasped. "There goes my only good shoulder."

He leaned against the crate, desperate to regain his power as one of the men swirled into being in front of him, katana raised to split Ezreal's head in two.

 _Shing!_

Ezreal's teeth grinded themselves into dust as he blocked it, holding the steel inches away from his face with his gauntlet. He had no other defense at this point. He couldn't even heat up the katana with a concentration of his energy. He needed at least a few more seconds to recharge…

He could hear reinforcements again, most of them probably leaving their battle with Akali to focus on him. The notion that he was a bigger threat made him smile.

In the corner of his eye he could see that foreboding glint of steel, lunging straight for his side.

He winced, waiting for the inevitable piercing of his clothes, the steel kissing the inside of his guts.

His chest suddenly splattered with blood. The neck of the assailant next to him shot out red. A split-second later, the man in front of him also gurgled out his life as two shuriken dug into his neck. Ezreal let out a small push, the threat of death crumpling into a heap before him.

"You really should stop fighting alone. It's obvious you can't handle yourself," a familiar voice chimed in. Ezreal could hear her breaths, dainty, yet measured. He chuckled as Akali stepped in front of him, blocking the swordsmen slowly trapping them into a corner. "Seriously."

"Hey, I was doing pretty well for myself, thank you very much. Just give me a few seconds and I'll be back on my feet."

Ezreal stood up straighter against the crates at his back. With a wince he pulled out the shuriken in his shoulder, tossing it into the ocean behind him. He hoped to gods it wasn't poisoned.

His eyes focused, somewhat groggy from the exertion of energy minutes earlier. Akali stood ready in front of him. Head ever so slightly shifting from left to right. The moonlight and the fires of the nearby shore reflected off the green, slithering tattoo on her bare neck, fresh sweat on her skin. Her kamas were directed towards the two groups of shadowy figures slowly advancing towards their corner, further closing their routes, further limiting their options.

Yup. Definitely a rock and a hard place.

Then, his gauntlet let out a whir and a click. The steamy wisps of blue dissipated, the blue gem in its center glowing a bright blue again.

Akali heard it too.

"Back on your feet?"

Ezreal adjusted himself, facing the group on his right. Akali shifted her stance, kamas pointed towards the group on his left. There really was only one way out of this one.

"Back on my feet."

A moment of silence pervaded the dozens of sets of eyes, electricity crackling through the shadowy ambiance of the ship.

Then, the arcane flare above the ship fizzled out, and the entire scene plunged into darkness.

* * *

 _Hey, Summoners. I'm back again. Battered and weary from romance, school, and work, but I'm back._

 _I'm trying to expand my horizons a bit, as some of you followers might have realized. Trying to write stuff other than League. I'll update here occasionally, but don't expect me to be an exclusive League writer anymore._

 _I'll finish my stories up and we'll see how it goes from there. Feel free to PM me about which stories in this archive I should finish first._

 _In the meantime, give me some feedback about my action writing. It's still somewhat unfamiliar territory for me and I'd love your feedback._

 _I love you guys. As always,_

 _Excelsior._


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